


Empires Fall

by NestaArcheronWillKillMe



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-09-16 10:44:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16952541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NestaArcheronWillKillMe/pseuds/NestaArcheronWillKillMe
Summary: Nesta leaves the Night Court after acofas.Follow her journey, and Cassian's, as they discover who they are and what their relationship could be.Angst + smut + fluff + badass





	1. Descension and ascension

Livid. Furious. Disappointed. Words could not do justice to the tempest of emotions which Nesta felt. There was simply no way to describe it- that fucking rejection.   
  
She had held her head high when the blow was dealt, simply walking out of that stupidly extravagant building.  
  
Her sister didn’t want her in her city. That was fine. Nesta didn’t particularly want to be there anyway.   
  
Stood in her dingy hall she couldn’t give a fuck about them, she needed to get out. Fast. This place was suffocating her, she couldn’t breathe under all its bloody feigned happiness. Sure it was beautiful and idyllic but it was just too forced, it wasn’t real.   
  
She strode through to her bedroom and packed the few clothes she had in a small pack. Nesta had very few possessions which hadn’t been destroyed, by war or herself.   
  
She moved to the small kitchen and grabbed a cheap bottle of pub beer. She was a thought away from making for the door before she realized the danger she may be putting herself in.   
  
She opened a top cupboard and retrieved a basic health pack containing bandages and the like.   
  
Slipping off her current, impractical footwear she searched for some boots. She could only find Elain’s gardening wellingtons and put them on anyway.   
  
Stepping out her door, she began to lock up.   
When the fourth lock clicked she stepped back, into the quiet alley and observed her previous residence.   
  
“Bye-bye, shit hole” and with that Nesta Archeron was gone.

…

Aching feet and leaden legs failed to stop her from admiring the variety of courts as she trudged on. They truly were beautiful.

Sure, the Night Court was perfect to many but as she trudged on she noticed the mystery in the Day Court’s light and the vulnerability of the Dawn. Her favorite though was not the elaborate showcase of the Winter nor the easiness of the Summer.

She most admired the Autumn. It always was her favorite season but the court. There was something about it that reminded her of home, of herself. It took her breath away, the way the gradients of reds and oranges were like a fire where every flame battled another to see who burned hottest. It almost made her want to live there. Until she remembered the people; Beron, Eris, Lucien. All scorched by the flame. She supposed that she already bore scars though, she would fit right in.

No. Just no, she did not need the label which came when integrating into a society. She had not turned good nor bad. She was Nesta Archeron and she would burn under no one’s shadow.

As her feet became numb and bruised anew she supposed she could do with some help in pointing out where she might stay for the night though. She truly was alone. No mother. No father. No Elain or Feyre. No Cassian.

It dawned on her then, exactly what she was leaving behind. Sure, she had let go of the rules and expectations but she had also lost a potential family. She hadn’t had one of those in a long time.

Now she would have all of eternity to find one, she supposed. The realization turned her thoughts to ash once again.

That flame, that anger and pain, and suffering. That was something new. She had not felt anything for months, had been numb and aching for some emotion to let her know that she had made it. That she was alive and kicking. None had come until the fury at being cast away. They had given up on her. All of them.

They did not know- could not fathom- what she was going through, so they gave up. They had no clue as to what power still writhed beneath her skin. At what she could do if she let go of the leash.

Something snapped inside her then. She had nothing else to lose, no one to tell her what she should or shouldn’t do. There were no expectations or standards.

A tendril of her power escaped her. It appeared black, then red as blood. It had a thick, fog-like consistency as it dissipated into the air. She let out a sigh and felt herself completely let go. Her fingers curled, knuckles white, and she aimed for a tree. Death once again was unleashed, something beautiful in the way it danced around the oak’s branches before sucking the life out of it.

With this power, she realized, she was untouchable. The High Lord of the Night Court would tremble at her feet.

Bitch Queen. King Slayer. It all made her and unmade her. She was Nesta Archeron and as she smiled wickedly she forced the earth to quake beneath her.

They're  had given up on her. All of them. They did not know- could not fathom- what she was going through, so they gave up. They had no clue as to what power still writhed beneath her skin. At what she could do if she let go of the leash.

Something snapped inside her then. She had nothing else to lose, no one to tell her what she should or shouldn’t do. There were no expectations or standards.

A tendril of her power escaped her. It appeared black, then red as blood. It had a thick, fog-like consistency as it dissipated into the air. She let out a sigh and felt herself completely let go. Her fingers curled, knuckles white, and she aimed for a tree. Death once again was unleashed, something beautiful in the way it danced around the oak’s branches before sucking the life out of it.

With this power, she realized, she was untouchable. The High Lord of the Night Court would tremble at her feet.

Bitch Queen. King Slayer. It all made her and unmade her. She was Nesta Archeron and as she smiled wickedly she forced the earth to quake beneath her.


	2. Saviour, Captor. What’s the difference?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian goes mad with worry and gets himself into a pickle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late guys, I promise I'll be better! Life's crazy atm, as in I got back together with my stupid boyfriend after he dumped me a couple days after christmas crazy.

Cassian hated himself for caring. Hated himself for thinking he hated himself for caring. He should care, it was right and noble. He should. It was difficult though, a torment to which he was unfamiliar with his past lovers. He suspected it was the cauldron’s bidding but would never voice the thought.  
His chest felt as though it was concaving when he heard no frustrated reply to his frantic calling of her name.  
It had been three days since his last visit, almost immediately after he had broken the news to Nesta about her new lodgings. Three days which were spent contemplating asking the Inner Circle if they might reconsider. It felt so wrong, so wrong to be wrenching her away from what little life she had created for herself.  
This is the way he saw it: everyone has their own way of coping. Rhys and the others should know that, they should recognise trauma when they see it and try to help her through it personally. A detox only works for so long.  
So, he stood before the bolted door of Nesta’s shack. Breaking the door down seemed extreme but what if she’d hurt herself? As selfish as it was he decided he couldn’t handle the eternal guilt.  
The door came crashing down the moment his shoulder hit it.  
He called her name. His reply came in the form of a squeak and a scuttle. Rats. He should never have let it get to this.  
Again “Nesta” sounded throughout the building, each syllable more frantic than the last.  
The realisation hit him like a blast from Hybern. She was gone. Nesta had left him.  
…  
He spent little time debating whether or not to report back to Rhys because his wings took flight before his brain really even engaged- another nudge from the cauldron no doubt.  
He flew throughout Velaris, stopping at each tavern and asking drunken dwellers when the last time they saw her was. Most said just over three days ago. The panic rose within him so it was quite literally impossible for him to stand still.  
There would not be a repeat of Hybern. Never, he promised himself- promised her. His nerves itched at him, sending a shiver down his back until his wings twitched. He had to search everywhere. Every nook of every court.  
Cassian took flight once more, his only comfort that Nesta was stubborn enough that she wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to.  
…  
After two days of scouring the whole of Prythian, two days of continuous flying with no reward, he began to feel the ache and otherwise imperceptible muscle spasms in his wings.  
He could not give up, he would check each court again- maybe she was still on the move.  
It was true agony unlike any other to not know where she was. His wings cursed her name whilst his heart sang it- casting it out as a beacon.  
As he flew over the seas which connected the Summer mountain range to the Winter coast a more notable spasm occured in his right wing. Then a tendon near his back. Involuntarily he dipped down sharply, recovering only seven feet from the surface of the water.  
Adrenaline allowed him to regain a little height before the next wave of spasms. In both wings this time.  
One moment he was struggling to right himself, the next he was plummeting into the obsidian depths beneath him.  
Only he wasn’t.  
He should have been. He should be dead by now really, frozen or drowned. But he wasn’t.  
He was suspended in the air, a half foot away from the nipping sea. He seemed to be resting on a crimson-tinted raincloud.  
Cassian looked around him tentatively, afraid to scare off the magic suspending him. He saw an island in the distance, getting bigger every second.  
Or ever closer. Yes, he was moving towards it. Was he being kidnapped? He tried to remain alert, his heart beating at ten times its normal rate. Perhaps his captors would be the same as Nesta’s? He knew he was clutching at straws but it was all he could do to stay focused and conscious.  
Tendrils of the blue-red smoke indruded, seemingly examining his wings. They had a frantic energy, only resting when they snaked around his wrists and feet.  
The cloud he rested on came to the coast of the island, tipping him abruptly onto the muddy edge. He landed so that his wing was bent under him and a hiss escaped his throat. Those wisps rushed to him again before being seemingly yanked backwards as if on a leesh.  
Cassian lifted his head to survey the grounds of his captor and came face to face with a small emerald pair of eyes. He surveyed the rest of its form with disbelief. It had sap green skin which seemed to be the texture of leather and was that a mushroom growing out of its shoulder? He was torn between awe and terror. It was grotesque in an ordinary sense but was truly remarkable to any other mindset.  
“I am Lord of Bloodshed, Commander of the Night Court’s Armies. You are?” He tried to engage conversation, maybe this was a misunderstanding.  
Whatever response he thought he might get went out the window when the cold voice of his true captor answered.  
“How dare you overestimate our hospitality by questioning my court when they chose to save you from a fate much like the one from which you failed to protect their queen?”  
Nesta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check out my tumblr for more nessian content:  
> @nestaarcheronwillkillme

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it!  
> My tumblr is @NestaArcheronWillKillMe if you're interested in any of my other works. xX


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